Dunmer Diaries
by Nahkuri
Summary: Welcome to the wonderful and epic adventures of Gals Gals, an unfortunately named 50-year-old Dunmer with few interests: excessive drinking and opportunity based substance abuse! The story will be told week at a time through the pages of his latest diary.
1. Week 1

**13.8.201**

Waterfront never stops surprising me. While I was sleeping last night someone broke into my hut and stole my goddamn curtains. I found out by waking up to being blinded by the sun. Don't know what else he had hoped to achieve by stealing that ragged piece of cloth. At least I had drunk all of my booze before he could steal it. Pissed off. Head felt like an Orc was trying to smash a dwemer robot with a kettle inside my skull. Decided to see if our moonshine at Hainab's was still there. My heart jumped to my throat when I found him weeping, but I calmed down when I saw the jugs in the corner and the one in his hands. I started drinking too. I asked why all of the booze was out and he wailed that he was going to drink himself to death, because the love of his life had left him. I couldn't remember her name so I asked him, and he stopped crying for a second and looked like he was trying to think. Judging from his expression he didn't do well, but carried on weeping anyway.

…..

Drunk. Asked Hainab why he was crying over a dockside whore. He suddenly stood up and demanded that I would take it back, so I knocked him out. I found Hainab to be even more tiresome when he was unconscious, so I went to the Drowning Fish. Whoever named that place is a genius. There, a male Khajiit sailor kept staring at me and purring. I understand that sailors aren't picky about love when they're out sailing and don't see any women for months. The only whore left in Waterfront had just dumped Hainab and left. Situation getting very uncomfortable. Would've punched his lights out if he wasn't two heads taller than me. Went out to take a leak. When I came back he was gone. My eyes are also plaiying tricks on me. I could swear my wine had changed its colour a bit. Poured it down anyway.

**14.8.201**

No recollection.

**15.8.201**

No recollection.

**16.8.201**

No recollection.  
**  
17.8.201**.

Woke up on the floor of a moving cart. Could've done with just hurting everywhere and feeling like someone forced a dozen slugs down my throat, but I was also tied up and cold. Surrounded by men in ragged clothes and armour, all of them tied up and looking like their puppy had just died and daddy used the corpse to beat up mummy. Tried to ask where I was, but that attempt ended up in a fit of coughing and gagging. Thought I was going to die until I threw up a hairball and could breathe again. One of the men noticed I was awake and started talking something about Imperials and borders. I asked him if cats carried STDs and he started talking to another prisoner instead. The cart arrived to a town and the Nord started ranting about elves. I would've taken offence but I was too confused. I was in Skyrim, apparently, and a prisoner of the Imperials. Decided I wouldn't drink ever again. Or at least try to avoid being drugged by suspicious Khajiit.

The imperials had no idea why I was there, but were going to execute me anyway just because they caught me with the others. I got covered instantly in cold sweat and my heart was about to beat its way out of my heart. Never been so scared and confused in my life, or so I thought until a horrible huge spiky winged monster showed up out of nowhere and started murdering everything. It looked like a Cliff Racer the size of a house that was full of spikes. Shat my pants and ran. I hid inside an outhouse as well as I could. Good thing I'm skinny.

...

Too scared to come out.

**18.8.201**

I crawled out early in the morning to find the town now a smoking ruin. Strangely enough the outhouse wasn't even slightly charred. Good thing, that. Being boiled alive in feces doesn't seem like a glamorous way to go. Was that thing a dragon? The only dragon I ever saw was in the Imperial City's temple, and that one was made of stone. I got Hainab thrown in the dungeons for a week after I convinced him to take a piss on its leg. Don't think I had ever laughed so hard.

...

Wandered around the ruins in search of drink. Maybe a bit of food as well. Walked into the ruins of what looked like a tavern. Surprised this rough looking orc in furs going through the rubble. I guess he didn't think anyone to be there because when I said hello he let out the sound I least expected from an orc: a high pitched squeak. He turned around with an axe in his hand. I was about to decide that I should run back in my outhouse when his face turned from green to gray, and he ran out through a hole in the wall. Must've been my smell. I guess Mr. Fancy Pants had never visited Waterfront.

...

Cleared a bit of rubble and found an entrance to the cellar. When I saw all the furs, the bottles and the food, I would've knelt down and thanked my ancestors if they weren't such intolerable twats. Ever been nagged about the dangers of drink by the spirit of a person who drank herself to death? Grams even cursed me with two days of the shits to make a point. Idiot. Easy for her to say when she's got no option but to stay sober. Time to drink. What's up with the berries?

...

The mead is tasty. It took me four bottles to figure it out, but it's tasty. Judging from the way my legs and feet appear to be misbehaving, it's a tad stronger than the piss they call wine at the Drowning Fish, too. I guess the pork was alright too. I would be pretty content if I didn't smell like shit. I think I will search for a fireplace, heat some water and wash myself. Maybe. At some point. I'm still thirsty, fortunately there's more mead than I can be bothered to count!

...

Well Skyrim is fucking cold but some the smoking ruins are still warm! I am going to find that dragon and kiss it and ask him if he knew any hot dragonettes to keep me company. I did some pillaging in the ruins and I do not care about my smell anymore, and I found a lot of potions in the basement of some ruins. They're brightly coloured and purdy. I don't think I shold have a taste. I found a panicked Argonian in my hut once in Waterfront. He hissed something about slavers and murderers. I don't like trespassers so I knocked him out and I tried some of the green potion I found in his pocket. I woke up in the drunk cell of the imperial prison the next day. Talked to a guard and he had found me half naked in the bushes behind the arena, with a rope around my ankle that was tied to big rock. Apparently I had been certain that I was a balloon and the rock was to keep me from floating off. I'd better stick to mead.

...

I didn't stick to mead. The purple stuff tasted bad, so I mixed it with the red stuff and the green stuff, and some mead. I feel funny.

So lonely.

**19.8.201**

Worst day so far.

Woke up in the basement with a huge spider on my chest, staring at me with its eyes. I slapped it off, stood up and started throwing everything I could at it. A kettle, empty mead bottles, empty potion bottles, rocks, whatever I could get my hands on. While screaming the whole time. Being from Morrowind means I'm used to most giant insects, but spiders make my skin crawl. I really, really hate them. After I had killed it, or at least buried it in junk, I realized I wasn't alone. The staircase was filled with armed men and elves in furs, at least 5 of them. All of them laughing uncontrollably, except the Orc I had spooked earlier. I should've known he had friends nearby. I Almost started throwing stuff at them as well, but then I figured I preferred being laughed at over being filled with arrows, so I just stood there and waited.

After a while a big Nord stopped laughing, grabbed a rope and lassoed me! I fell on my arse with the rope tightly around my ankles, and they started dragging me up. I swore revenge and called the wrath of my ancestors on them while my head was banging against the stairs, but it resulted in them just laughing at me some more. I guess they were familiar with my ancestors. They dragged me outside, where there were some buckets of water and a fire going with a huge cast iron pot over it that was filled with boiling hot water. The bandits let me stand up and formed a circle around me. They aimed at me with all sorts of ranged weaponry and told me to strip naked and toss my clothes into the fire. I did so while demanding compensation for my precious clothes, although I'm not sure why. I had seen more fashionable rags that smelled better on a zombie. The Nord leader told me to shut up and tossed a scrub brush at my feet. He said I had two options: to die there and then, or to wash up and join their merry bunch. The bunch looked more murderous than merry to me, but I wasn't into the idea of dying, so I started scrubbing.

While I was scraping the filth off my skin, he explained that his bunch was an infamous group of outlaws called "the Free Brothers." I said that a pair of inbred ogres could come up with a more imaginative name, to which he replied by whacking me in the head with the shaft of his spear and threatening to castrate me with a hammer if I kept that up. I shut up and he continued talking about the Free Brothers. They were a small group of bandits who were led by him, Olofson. They exploited the chaos caused by the civil war, and now dragons, to loot and plunder. I wasn't even aware there was a civil war going on in Skyrim. Then again, I found out about the great war when the Aldmeri Dominion sacked the Imperial City. Good times. I helped them by sacking the distillery.

Olofson explained that lately he had developed a knack for raiding ancient Nordic tombs. Because of that he needed a man who wasn't afraid of the dead and would do things others wouldn't even think of, which was his reason to why I was still breathing. I asked why he thought I was that man. He told me how the Free Brothers had surrounded the ruined town and observed me after the Orc had ran back to them, scared to death and rambling about ghosts and the horrible stench of death and shit. Apparently at some point last night I had appeared outside with my eyes wider than two plates and started dragging charred corpses inside a relatively intact house while mumbling again and again that I was the orgasmatron. I don't remember any of that, and I'm not sure what I had been up to, but I decided to scrub my privates well, despite the audience.

...

After I was done washing, they tossed me some clothes, a pair of boots and a fur vest. One of them asked if I wanted a hairbrush, and they all laughed again. My hair had fallen off when I started drinking, or maybe I started drinking because it fell off? Anyway, that was 30 years ago so I didn't really care. I just wished I had more to drink. I asked about the mead and they told me I'd had enough and it was time to move. I don't recall when I'd been this miserable. Probably when the Imperials wanted to execute me for nothing.

...

Walking, walking, walking and some more walking. Snuck around a village called Riverwood. Then walked some more. My feet hurt like hell and I could've killed twice for a drink. They probably guessed that because they won't give me a weapon. Walked up a mountain and past a tower. Arrived at a huge temple made of stone on the side of the mountain, where the rest of the Free Brothers were waiting. They had set up a camp inside the temple's entrance. Olofson said something about me being on catacombs duty first thing in the morning because I had to prove myself. Don't care. Walked in, curled up next to a fire and passed out immediately.


	2. Week 2

**20.8.201**

Adventuring sucks.

Woke up to the sound of people shouting their lungs out. Apparently Olofson had developed a deep hatred towards Dunmer, judging from the way he kept cursing us to Oblivion. Told them to keep it down and tried to go back to sleep, but someone hit me on the head with something. I got up and saw Olofson marching away towards the entrance. Asked this tiny Bosmer bandit what was going on. Apparently one of the Free Brothers had nicked an expensive item and snuck off while he was on guard duty. He went on to talk about how they had stolen the thing with great effort from Riverwood or something, but I couldn't really care less. I asked for wine or mead. Before the Bosmer could answer Olofson interrupted us by shouting something incomprehensible from the other side of the hall. He walked to us and told that the plan remained mostly the same. The thief couldn't have got out they way we came in without being spotted, so he must have entered the depths of the ruins in search of another exit.

I had no interest towards any of that, and asked Olofson for a drink. He told me to shut up and explained the plan instead. Gorc and I were to scout ahead in the catacombs and steal whatever gold we could find from the tombs. The Nords liked to leave valuables right next to their embalmed dead so it should be easy. I asked who Gorc was, and Olofson pointed towards the squeaky Orc, who had turned gray again for some reason. Gorc the Orc? Seriously? I started laughing hysterically, but Olofson whacked me in the head again and continued. I would stick that spear up his arse if he wasn't twice my size. He said that we should run into the thief, because according to some legend there would be a magically sealed door ahead that nobody could open. We should capture or kill the thief, get the claw and report back. He then handed me a shortsword. Considered stabbing him and running off, but I guess they were expecting that, judging from how Olofson immediately took two steps back and the rest of the bunch grabbed their bows and crossbows. Fine. Told them I'd go down.

...

Ventured into the depths with Gorc. He explained to me with a strangely soft voice(for an orc) that he was scared to death of the undead which was why he panicked when he saw me. He thought I was a ghost. He told that Olofson sent him down with me because he thought it would cure him of his fear. I guess he talked about the origins of his phobia, but I didn't care enough to listen. I was keeping my eyes open in case the Nords buried their dead with alcohol like my family did. Found only some coins.

...

Arrived into a room with a closed gate, a switch and a fresh corpse full of darts still pulling it. I guess the Free Brothers weren't the only ones with ideas of grave robbing. No idea why ancient Nords would build a suicide machine in a tomb, though. The room also had these rotating pillars with pictures that Gorc and I found incredibly fascinating. We spent at least five minutes just rotating them in complete silence. Must've triggered some kind of mechanism because the gate opened, revealing a room with a staircase leading down.

Walked down. Spiderwebs everywhere. Walked back up. Gorc giggled(what's up with that orc?) and told me he'd scout ahead for any scary spiders and scare them off with his greataxe. While he was away I found a deep red potion from the corpse's bag and drank it, as well as whatever that stuff in his flask was. Then I decided to run back down and murder all the spiders with my talons, and probably Gorc as well.

...

Good thing there are these burial wraps and urns everywhere to shit in. My bowels turned to water when I realized I was punching a dead spider the size of a house. Gorc didn't have even time to think of a strategy when I had ran past him and started attacking the thing's arse with foam coming out of my mouth. Apparently it was dying because it died very easily. To Gorc's axe, not my fists. Found out it had been busy killing the thief we were after. Then I found out the item the thief had stolen was a claw shaped ornament made of solid gold. Informed Gorc that Olofson could blow himself and I'd search for the other way out. He seemed to like my plan for whatever reason.

...

Almost walked into a trap. There was a pressure plate on the floor and a wall of spikes behind it. Gorc told me that if I stepped on the pressure plate the spikewall would spin and pin my punctured corpse against the wall. I told Gorc he was a genius. Who designed this place anyway?

Found a whole lot of long dead Nords in the next room. The walls were full of them. Guess we reached the actual catacombs. Gorc turned gray again. I was robbing a mummy and was about to tell Gorc to stop his whimpering and to give me a hand with the looting when I felt the corpse grab my fur vest and my left arm. I yelled in terror and punched it in the face. My fist crushed through whatever teeth it had let, but it got stuck. The mummy was so frail its legs fell off when I jumped on my feet but it kept its grip and my fist was still stuck in its head. Meanwhile Gorc was already running far away, screeching like a girl. Nearly every corpse had started crawling out of their resting place and attacking us. Decided to worry about the upper half of a mummy clinging to me while running. Stepped on a pressure plate while fleeing and the next thing I knew I was tossed on the floor face down and my pants tore off. I had activated the spikewall trap but I was running so fast I made it. One spike managed to catch my saggy trousers, however. I'm not sure how I got up with the mummy still clinging to me, but I did.

**21.8.201**

Well, they're all dead and I'm drunk as a brewer's fart. The Free Brothers had followed us and they were wondering and poking at the giant spider when I reached them. Some of them fell on their knees laughing when I ran there with my cock out, being choked to death by half a mummy while simultaniously punching it and trying to shake it off. Olofson could hardly breathe after he had torn the undead off me and stomped the life out of it. They stopped laughing when the horde of undead followed. Idiots. I decided not to stick around. My sword was there with my pants. Not that I would've stayed to use it anyway.

Snuck back later that night to find them all dead. Idiots got what they deserved if you ask me. Whole lot of dead undead(?) on the ground though. Not sure if the last of the Brothers managed to kill them off before dying himself, or if the rest of the things just went back to bed. Either way I'm alone, the camp's got plenty of firewood and I found the mead. I'm not going anywhere. I wonder what happened to Gorc?

...

I went to stick Olofson's spear up his arse but I forgot what I was doing halfway there and remembered when I got back up here. No matter. I guess that would have been pretty gay. I still have some mead left but I'm gonna run out tomorrow. No matter. I'll buy more with my golden claw.

...

Gorc's got the claw. Fuck.

Do these people seriously not have any extra pairs of trousers?

**22.8.201**

Ever been awaken by an orc staring at you right above you? Well I have. Twice now in my life. It's not fun because you might shit yourself a little. No idea where I was, other than I was outside. I had gone searching for Gorc. I remember walking down the mountain, but it gets a little unclear after that. He found me passed out on the grass. He seemed to have an idea where we were and we started walking towards the town of Riverwood.

While we walked he told with his soft voice how he had panicked and ran and ran and ran. After that he just kind of hid in the bushes, too embarrassed to get back. I told him he was the only Free Brother left alive and he started ranting about how he never truly was a part of them and they treated him like rubbish. I think. I was quite hung over so paying attention got difficult when he wasn't speaking in short, simple sentences.

Only attempted using my brains when he asked why I was wearing a skirt. Hadn't even realized it. I told him I had no idea, and he said it was alright. After a long silence he said he knew how it felt. Before I could ask anything, he started going on about his background. He had joined the Free Brothers as Gorc because of facing prejudice and hate where he was from. He told me that deep down he felt that he was Margot, an Altmer beauty. I asked if he had been cursed or something, but he had born that way and apparently just felt he was an Altmer woman stuck in an Orc's body.

I really need a drink.

**23.8.201**

So now I'm a wanted criminals and sitting in a cold cave without any food or drink.

When we reached Riverwood yesterday I decided I wouldn't go in wearing a skirt. So cut it into two sections, planning to sew legs in it. Then I realized I didn't have any needles or anything. Then I realized I didn't know how to sew even if I did have the equipment. So I tried to make a sort of loincloth out of it that had Gorc or whatever laughing in tears. Was so pissed off I forgot all about the claw and marched straight into the tavern to buy a strong drink with some of the coins and trinkets I had nicked from the Draugr(apparently the things are called that.) They threw me out, saying they don't serve elves in diapers. Shouted at Gorc in the middle of the street and told him to hand the fucking claw over. Realized everyone had stopped doing what they were doing and were staring at us with eyes wider than both moons put together.

Marched into the merchant's place, slammed the claw on the desk and demanded 10 000 septims for it. It must've been worth at least that much. I had forgotten all about the Free Brothers stealing the claw from Riverwood. He told me that he wouldn't buy what was stolen for him by bandits, but he would give me 200 septims as a reward for retrieving it and a pair of trousers. I was so pissed off and frustrated that I punched the merchant's lights out. Then I grabbed the claw and walked outside. A woman I hadn't noticed ran out after me, calling the guards. So I ran. In the wrong direction, away from the camp in the mountain. Of course my loincloth had to fall off in the middle of my escape.

I lost the guards and found this cave to hide in, but now I have no food or anything, and my balls are freezing. Spent the night gathering berries and the like. I'm going to murder that Khajiit that got me in Skyrim in the first place.

...

So hungry. The berries don't help one bit, and I don't dare the go too far away from my cave. They're probably searching for me right now. I've always hated mushrooms, but I will eat those that grow in the cave if I don't find real food soon.

...

I never tasted anything so bad in my life. At least the mushroom completely killed my appetite so the lack of food doesn't seem as bad.

**24.8.201**

No recollection

**25.8.201  
**  
Woke up halfway up a tree. Completely naked. Somehow I had managed to lose every piece of clothing the Free Brothers had given me.

Realized I wasn't far away from the cave. Went in and almost had a heart attack when I saw Gorc in there. He'd brought clothes and a bit of food and most importantly: wine. He told me he spent an hour last night trying to convince me to come down but I kept hissing at him so he gave up. He had also taken the claw back to the merchant while I was busy imagining I was some kind of an animal, and received the 200 gold for it. Didn't care at that point. I had wine after all. Gorc had also bought a dress. He stood up and asked how he looked. I said he looked like an Orc the size of a building squeezed into a fat woman's dress. He turned reddish brown and rushed outside. I didn't know Orcs could change colour.

...

Is that Gorc roaring somewhere in the distance?

...

Decided I had had enough of this rotten province. Talked with Gorc who had changed back into his regular furs and killed something with his axe judging from the blood on it. He said there was a big town called Whiterun up north that probably could offer a cartride back to the Imperial City. Maybe even a mage's guild and their weird teleport spells that always make me vomit when I arrive where I wanted to go. Decided I would go first thing tomorrow morning, or whenever I woke up.

**26.8.201**

Started walking towards whiterun. Gorc wanted to go with me. I wonder if he thinks he's a straight woman? I hear some of the Altmer can be pretty open minded so he might be a lesbian as well. Though he thinks his name is Margot, and Margot isn't an Altmer name so maybe he doesn't know very much what his true identity is like. Thank the Tribunal and whatever that I'm ugly and bald, so he's not likely after my butt. Though then again, I wouldn't exactly be picky if I had that face.

...

Asked Gorc about it, and he claims he likes men. Why did I ask that? Why is he looking at me funny? Why didn't I get a weapon from one of the dead Free Brothers in the catacombs? Why did I leave so little wine for today?

...

stopped to rest and eat a little. Brought some of that mushroom with me. Maybe it'll be fun if I just nibble at it a little bit at time instead of eating it at once.

...

No recollection.


	3. Week 3

**27.8.201**

Woke up in someone's house. Saw a woman sleeping downstairs with a big sword next to her. No sight of Gorc. Opened the door to find a cheering crowd outside. Tried to ask where I was but something happened and the people closest to me fell on their arse and someone's fruit basket exploded, sending apples and bananas flying in all directions. Slammed the door shut and hid in a cupboard. I'm not coming out.

...

I swear I heard rumbling speech in that thunder. Decided I would never have that particular type of mushroom again.

**28.8.201**

I've barricaded the door to the bedroom with everything I could find. I'm not coming out until that mushroom stops screwing with my head. Or until I run out of mead. Fortunately there's a lot of it. Though I'm not sure if even the mead is real. Or the house. I'm probably going to wake up in the cave at any moment. Or maybe in my hut in the Imperial City. I'd beg my ancestors to help me but they would probably just tell me to get a job.

Yesterday I heard the woman get up and start walking around the house. At some point she opened the cupboard and found me inside. After failing repeatedly to persuade me to come out she grabbed my leg and tried to drag me out. I kicked her in the nose and closed the cupboard. She then hacked the cupboard to pieces with an axe while I was screaming inside. Tried to beg her not to kill me, but some kind of a blastwave out of nowhere threw her on her back and sent the axe flying. I ran here and blocked the doorway with a bed, a pair of dressers and everything else that was in the room. Then I realized there were four crates of mead, so I took those away from the barricade. I heard the woman threatening to beat me to death if I didn't come out, and then going away mumbling and swearing. Later I heard Gorc talking outside the barricade, asking something about upsetting Lydia and telling me to come out, promising to explain everything. I told him to go away after he told me that this was my house. He was probably the murderous axewoman pretending to be Gorc. I'm expecting anything to happen at this point. Not even the shack in Imperial City was really mine.

...

Why am I not waking up? Am I awake? The mead is affecting me alright, but none of this makes sense. Some exhilarated kid outside started screaming something about the dragonbone the moment I started pissing out of the window.

...

Carefully placed empty mead bottles on the barricade. If they try to come in the bottles will fall and I will know and be prepared. I'm a genius.

**29.8.201**

Woke up tied to a chair downstairs. First thing I saw was the axewoman staring at me like she wanted to feed my hands to me finger at a time. I guess I would've feared for my life if I didn't see Gorc there as well with a new steel chestplate and flowers in his hair. Tried to tell him he looked ridiculous, but I was gagged. The woman told me to shut up and listen.

Gorc started explaining what had happened. He said that after taking the break on our way to Whiterun two days ago, I had continued nibbling on my mushroom while growing increasinly anxious, being spooked by almost every sound any animal made. Eventually I just ate the whole mushroom. My pupils had enlarged until my eyes were almost completely black. Pretty soon afterwards I had spotted a deer which made me splutter loudly and run off after it faster than Gorc thought was even possible for me to run. He followed but couldn't keep up, so he lost me. After a while he found me on the rivershore, sniffing another mushroom I had picked up, completely entranced by the sight of salmon jumping up the small rapids. I wouldn't give up the mushroom, but I followed meekly when he tied a rope around my waist and pulled on it. Until we reached the the outskirts of Whiterun.

A dragon was attacking a watchtower in the distance. Gorc stopped still and I used the opportunity to yank myself free, and started running towards the spectacle waving my arms randomly in the air. He followed me and called after me but I didn't pay any attention to him and just ran at amazing speed towards the tower and the flames surrounding it. He followed as near as he dared and hid behind a large rock. He saw me enter the tower while the dragon was too busy roasting the doomed soldiers outside to notice.

Eventually the dragon killed the soldiers trying to run away and dropped down to eat them. Everything was silent except for the alarm bells of Whiterun ringing in the distance, until a strange cooing sound started coming from one of the tower's arrow slits. The dragon stopped eating, looked at the tower and cocked its head like a confused dog. After listening for a while it took to the air and flew in circles around the tower, trying to see what was making the sound. Eventually it landed on top of the tower and stuck its head in the staircase leading up there from inside the tower. After that Gorc heard a terrified shriek which was followed by the dragon quickly pulling out its head and roaring in pain so loud that Gorc had to cover his ears. The dragon twisted in agony and fell down behind the tower. There was a loud crack and everything fell silent again.

After waiting for a while Gorc had slowly creeped to the tower and found the dragon dead, its neck unnaturally twisted and broken, and a broom sticking out from between its right eye's eyelids with a lot of blood coming out. He had found me sitting alone in the uppermost floor of the tower, rocking back and forth with my arms wrapped around my knees, muttering something about giant Argonians coming to get me. It had taken a good while before I had even noticed Gorc's existence. He managed to persuade me to follow him out of the tower. Outside were a group of armed armed guards from Whiterun waiting for us. Upon seeing the men I had started screaming and ran behind the tower, where the dead dragon was. Gorc thought it must've been the masked helmets the men wore that spooked me. They followed me and things got a little bit weird.

They found me just standing there, staring at the dragon. Probably frozen still with fear. Which would've been understandable even without me being completely out of my mind thanks to the mushrooms. The dragon's corpse had started smoking and then burning, and the flames had surrounded me, along with some kind of a strange light. All anyone could do was to stand there and look at it all happen. Eventually only the dragon's skeleton remained, with some scales here and there, and I stood still where I was, completely unharmed by the flames and having turned nearly white from fear and confusion.

The guards had taken us to the Jarl of Whiterun. Gorc had explained everything, except the bits of me eating mushrooms and randomly chasing wild animals. My mind had apparently turned completely off after the dragon corpse incident and could only follow Gorc and stare at nothing. I guess they thought I was in shock or something. I had saved the town and was rewarded a house and 5000 septims. Lydia, the murderous axewoman, was appointed my housecarl. Whatever that meant. She now lives in my house, apparently. The gold was given to Gorc until I had gathered my wits. Gorc got the mead because he figured I would need it for taking this all in. I was to return to the Jarl as soon as possible, because the court wizard would have an explanation for the thing that had happened with me and the dead dragon. He could probably explain why things started flying around sometimes when I opened my mouth, too.

After Gorc had told all that Lydia ungagged me and cut the ropes. When I stood up she thanked me for breaking her nose and punched me in the face harder than I had been punched for at least three months. I didn't agree with that, so I gave her my best right straight. It made her fall on her arse. I didn't knock her out, though, so she got up and we had a fight that resulted in a broken table, two broken chairs and swollen faces for both Lydia and I that would go through all the colours of the rainbow during the following days. Also, a mentally scarred Gorc, judging from how he was screaming helplessly by the wall the whole time, begging us stop it.

...

Started drinking with Lydia. Gorc is sulking for whatever reason. Women. Lydia is amazed at how hard I fought despite she had seen thicker arms on a child. Told her that my Great Grandfather had been a fistfighter legend. Drunken brawlers from all over Tamriel had travelled to challenge him. They all lost. Maybe I got that from him. The only time he lost was when he got shitfaced drunk and challenged an ogre at the age of 60, twenty years after retiring,

Lydia told me that the blastwave that sent her flying on her back was a shout. She'd seen powerful Draugr do it as well. I asked if she had been raiding tombs as well, but she replied with a sad voice that her tits weren't big enough. I couldn't really see the connection, but I told her she's got a great arse to make her feel better. She looked at me funny so I continued that I still preferred women who were less able and likely to kill me. She thanked politely, and added that she preferred men with hair on their heads.

Didn't really know what she meant by the shout thing, though. I have shouted at people plenty of times but it never sent them flying. Decided that I didn't care and continued drinking.

...

That dumb woman tried to keep up with me drink for drink. She got so drunk she tried to flirt with Gorc. Never seen a more confused and awkward orc in my life. I was laughing so hard I fell on the floor and couldn't breathe. Gorc's torment didn't last long, though. Lydia suddenly got up and rushed out the door. Went out to take a piss later and found her passed out in the bushes behind the house, lying in a pool of her own vomit. Tried dragging her in, but she was really heavy for a woman. She was pretty tall and muscular, though. Most Nords are built like brick walls anyway. Tossed a bucket of water on her to clean her up and told Gorc to carry her in.

...

Tried to have Gorc drink with me, but he marched out the door when I called him a dumb orc. Maybe I should have complimented the flowers in his hair or something.  
**  
30.8.201**

Woke up face down on the floor next to bed. My aim is sometimes a bit off when I go to sleep after a night of heavy drinking. My everything hurts. Walked down to find Lydia sitting on the floor against the wall with a blanket wrapped around her. I had seen better looking drown victims. They had shivered less, though. Asked if there was any mead left and she responded by sending projectile vomit across the room. Looks like I'm not the only one with shitty aim, as there was a bucket right next to her. Where's Gorc?

...

There was a bang on the door. A very attractive dunmer lady was there. I guess the air in my house was a little stale because she stopped talking after three words and walked to the other side of the street, holding her hand over her mouth. I followed her and she told me that the Jarl was getting very impatient and I was to go to his hall for an audience today, as soon as possible. I asked if she had a husband, and she looked at me as if I was a talking turd and walked away. Went back inside and downed a mug of mead I found to make my everything hurt a bit less. Lydia looked at me for a second and threw up again. This time she hit the bucket, at least.

...

Walked to the Jarl's palace with Lydia. I didn't know anything about Nord etiquette and wouldn't have given a wet far about it even if I did, so I just walked straight up to his throne and said hello. We had changed to clean clothes and Lydia was wearing her armor, but she was as pale as a ghost and we both had bruised, swollen faces. The dunmer, who apparently was the Jar's housecarl, looked at us in disgust but the Jarl himself seemed amused. He said that he was very eager to have us in his hall because his court wizard was a prick and wouldn't tell him anything until I was there, not even under the threat of making him redundant or having him tossed into the dungeons. The hooded man next to his throne glanced at the Jarl and started talking.

He said the only explanation was that I was a dragonborn. No idea what that meant, but everyone else in the hall seemed very surprised, except Lydia who had turned even paler and was concentrating very hard to not throw up. The Jarl said that shouldn't be possible as I was evidently a bloody elf. The wizard continued that he was confused by that as well at first, but then he remembered having studied the history of Morrowind in the college of Winterhold. He talked about some prophecy of Nerevarine that said he would be a dragonborn. I still had no idea what that meant, but I did know Nerevarine had been a Dunmer. I also knew that when my Grams was alive and drunk(which was pretty much always,) she would often brag that her grandfather was the crotchsprog of Nerevarine himself. With those words.

I'd been excited about that for a while when I was a brat, but I talked to this ancient dunmer who had lived in Vvardenfell before the Red Mountain spewed her guts all over the place. He must've been near 200 years old, which was much older than anyone in my family had ever lived to be. He said that there was a woman in a town called Balmora. Her name was Girara Gals and she used to say that she gave birth to the child of Nerevarine. The hero did visit her house before anyone even knew him. Then again, Girara used to spread her legs for pretty much anything moving on two legs(if she was feeling particularly picky), so nobody really paid any attention to it as the father could've been pretty much anyone with a pair of nuts.

I told them all that and the wizard said that it was most likely true, or at least he couldn't think of another explanation. All other known dragonborn had been men. Lydia showed the court what she thought of this by starting to run towards the doors, tripping on her own feet, falling down a small flight of stairs, and throwing up on the floor where she landed. Then I nearly killed the Jarl. I noticed a huge, horned skull planted on the wall above the throne and tried to ask if it was the dragon I had killed. The blastwave shout thing happened again and the skull came crashing down, missing the Jarl by an inch. He told me the audience was over.

...

Having a nice buzz. Told Lydia I'd sleep on the furs downstairs and sent her to shiver in my bed like the gentleman I am every once in a decade. Or gentlemer. Whatever. Where is Gorc?

...

Got bored of drinking alone so I walked to the tavern, but it was closed. Peeked inside a window and I think I saw a single piece of furniture that wasn't smashed into at least three pieces. Fine. I guess Nords get rowdy when they're liquored up.

**31.8.201**

Got kicked awake by Lydia. She said the Jarl wanted to see me again. What is it with these people? Lydia handed me a massive bowl of porridge, saying she was embarrassed to be serving a thane that looked like he had just escaped a Thalmor death camp. I told her that if she was concerned about what people thought of her, she should probably start working on her image by not throwing up in front of her Jarl's court. That shut her up so well she wouldn't even tell me what a Thane was when I asked. Still no sight of Gorc. Couldn't eat half of the porridge, so I threw the rest out the window while Lydia was doing something upstairs. Heard a squeal outside and looked out the window. Saw a little girl running with the porridge all over her hair and shoulders. Why was she hanging around under my window? Idiot.

…

Walked to the Jarl's palace. No sight of the Jarl himself, but the wizard wanted to talk to me. He requested I'd keep my mouth shut until we got to the balcony where I could speak, facing the tundra. Makes sense, I guess. They had planted the dragonskull on the wall again, though slightly to the right of the throne instead of straight above it.

Wizard went on something about dragonborns being born with the soul of a dragon, and being able to use their voice like a dragon. Apparently dragons talk when they spit fire. When I sent things flying I was apparently doing something similar. I just hadn't had any training and didn't know the right words, so I randomly used the power I had gained when I consumed that dragon's soul. Or something along those lines. I was pretty hung over, and had some trouble concentrating. I wonder what that dragon I'd killed was saying when he was frying those soldiers around the watchtower. "HELLO, NICE WEATHER ISN'T IT?" "SHALL WE DISCUSS MY POLITICAL IDEAS?"

The wizard's droning was interrupted by the captain of the guard who approached me. He said that I should visit the dungeons if I was short one orc. I left the wizard to entertain himself with his dragon theories, and went to the dungeons, because I didn't know where Gorc had put my reward money.

When I got there I saw Gorc. He looked so incredibly miserable in his cell that I could do nothing but laugh uncontrollably. A guard explained that they had dragged him in the night before the last. Gorc had showed up in the tavern and started drinking, looking like he was going to murder the first person who talked to him. A huge drunk Nord known for getting into fights all the time had made some witty remark about orc faggots. Gorc's comeback was more suitable for what he was physically than his true self, Margot the delicate Altmer beauty. He beat the seven shades of shit out of the Nord and pretty much anyone he got his hands on, and also thrashed pretty much anything that wasn't made of iron or stone. It had taken 10 of the strongest guards to subdue him and two of them would be off work for months because of broken bones. I thought all that was really funny, until they told me what all the damage had cost.

Gorc told me where he had put the money and whimpered something about not meaning to do it. I told him to shut the fuck up. I had thought of living comfortably for months with no fear of running out of food or drink, but getting Gorc out of trouble would leave me with barely enough for a week's binge, and only if I skipped eating some days. Drinking while hungry can be pretty awful.

…

Walked to my house and started drinking. Pissed off. I've more than half a mind to let Gorc rot in his cell.

…

It's settled, Gorc's staying in his cell. Maybe he'll learn some manners. Tried to have Lydia drink with me. She said no at first, but changed her mind when I mocked her Nord honor of not being able to handle her drink. She turned grey and ran out after the first sip of mead, though. Guess that one night ruined the drink for her. Maybe I should get some wine for her.

Bored. Maybe they fixed the tavern already. Nords like to drink, don't they?

**1.9.201**

Didn't let Gorc rot in his cell. Might as well get him out if I'm to depart on a dangerous journey to the top of the highest bloody mountain in Tamriel.

The tavern was still closed, so I randomly wandered around Whiterun in search of a drinking place yesterday. All I found was this Khajiit camp outside the walls. I parked my arse on a log next to a fire they had going and started drinking with them. Apparently they were traders or something. The cats make for decent drinking company. They have a weird sense of humour, but they sometimes have interesting stories to tell. Didn't hear one. Instead I saw a familiar face crawl out of one of their tents. It was the Khajiit from the Drowning Fish that got me into this mess in the first place.

I stood up and grabbed a stick, growling threats at the Khajiit. The cat produced a dagger. I started swearing but somehow did that shout thing again.

The dagger flew off from my enemy's hand. All of the tents also blew open and there were a whole lot of pans and kettles claking in all directions. A bag of spices blew open in some cat's face and had the thing blinded and hissing, spitting and sneezing all over the place. The fire they had going exploded and burning logs flew everywhere, lighting up bushes where they landed as well as the hay roof of the stables. Pretty soon the whole tundra had panicked horses running around and Nords desperately chasing after them and trying to put out fires. A bunch of armed guards rushed to us and demanded explanation. All of the cats pointed at me.

The guards dragged me to the Jarl's palace, saying that they wouldn't toss their thane(still don't know what that is) in the dungeons, but I'd have to explain myself to the Jarl. On our way I saw a guard being carried on a stretcher with the Khajiit's dagger sticking from his buttcheek. Progress was kinda slow because the men carrying him could hardly breathe because they were laughing at their colleague's misfortune so hard.

Before we reached the palace I heard that talking thunder again. I thought that had been one of those mushroom hallucinations the first time I'd heard it, but all the guards heard it too. They looked like they all had had some kind of a religious experience. I wonder why? All the voice in the thunder seemed to say was dough fucking in a very impatient tone of voice.

Long story short, the Jarl was pretty unhappy about the antics of me and my companions, so he's sending me off to some place called High Hrothgar. Apparently the voice in the thunder had been some men known as the Greybeards who knew how to do the same shout thing as I because of years of training. They were calling for me according to the wizard. I asked if that was what the dough fucking had meant. He responded with a blank stare.

Woke up today with a massive hangover. I figured I'd murder the Khajiit and find my way back to Cyrodiil, as I wasn't interested in climbing on top of that gigantic mountain. Instead I found guards outside my house who were therere to make sure I got on a carriage that would take me to a village called Ivarstead that was the nearest stop on the way to High Hrothgar. Told Lydia to grab the reward money and go release Gorc as well as stockpile on booze with whatever money was left after that. Instead she bought me a sword and brought some old chainmail shirt of hers. I've never been this miserable in my life. Or at least for a few days. Got on the carriage around afternoon and began my awful journey.

**2.9.201**

Boring, boring boring. We're taking the longer North way because Helgen got torched by a dragon. Apparently that was the town the imperials dragged me to. Got up early and I've been sitting on my arse on this cart since. Chewed on some dried meat. It was sort of like scrib jerky, only it didn't taste like arse.

…

Well, nobody said I couldn't drink on the way. There was enough mead left for a day or two at least. I was so drunk around afternoon that I started singing. Gorc looked very sad and said my voice reminded him of his mother. That was so incredibly weird and awkward that I couldn't sing after that.

…

Saw a giant kick a wolf. Mutt must've been airborne for at least 5 seconds. Wildlife in Skyrim was certainly entertaining.

…..

When we stopped for the night Lydia tried to teach me sword fighting. I could barely walk, so I just giggled at her futile efforts. I did try to take one swing at her, but my sword flew from my hand and nearly hit our driver. He threw a tantrum but I missed most of what he was screaming at me because I got entranced by the hairy mole on his face. I told him mages could get rid of that mole. I once had ladyparts tattooed on Hainab's forehead. The cost of having a mage remove that was at least half as painful to my coinpurse as the process was to Hainab, but otherwise it was very much worth it. The driver said nothing to that, but I think he might've gotten even madder. I did try to pacify him with some mead but he just screamed at me for not hearing a single word of what he'd just said.

…

Tried to do some of that shouting but all I managed to do was some croaking sounds that made Gorc wake up with a nervous squeak. Maybe getting some training from those beard guys was a good thing.


	4. Week 4

**3.9.201**

Woke up to Lydia cursing pretty much everything on this world to oblivion. Especially the Dunmer and the dragonborns and drunkards. I told her to watch her tongue as I happened to be at least three of those things. She tossed a crumpled note in my face. I opened it and read it. It said:

"Dear Dragonborn: fuck you. It was bad enough that I had to tolerate your drinking when my Ma and Da drank themselves to death. It wasn't enough, you had to insult me as well. That does it. I'm off. Enjoy your walk. Maybe you won't get eaten by wolves.

-Sven.

Post Script: eat shit."

I was so hung over the first thing in my mind was amazement that the driver knew how to write. Then it occurred to me I would have to walk all the way up that massive mountain. Then it occurred to me all the mead was on the carriage. Then I decided to add Sven to my murder list after that Khajiit.

Lydia was so angry that she grabbed Gorc's great axe and attacked a tree. The sight was so absurd that I had to laugh out loud despite the situation being so horrible. Gorc squealed that he had just sharpened the axe but Lydia didn't stop until the tree fell After she was done she was panting and muttered something about making my life agony.

…

True enough. She forced me to wear the chainmail. It was the heaviest thing I'd ever put on. She also forced me to have the sword on my belt and a backpack. I was praying for a quick death after the first hour of walking. Gorc made some comment about fresh air and exercise doing us all good. Lydia and I told him to shut up in unison.

…

Stopped for the night. Never been this tired in my life. My legs and feet are on fire. Lydia is hunting rabbits or something. Gorc seems cheerful and he keeps talking about nothing in particular. I can't stand it. I really, really, really need a stiff drink.

**4.9.201**

My everything hurt so bad in the morning that I couldn't get up without help. Chewed on some jerky before Lydia decided it was time to move again. If I were the slightest bit religious I would beg for the nine or eight or the tribunal or anyone to smite me down. Or better yet, her.

…

I feel less exhausted by the walking today. Probably because I'm not as hung over. Being able to freely enjoy the sight of Lydia walking ahead also makes the journey slightly less horrible. She's taller and way more muscular than me, and her face is not nearly angular and gaunt enough for my Dunmer tastes, but she still has a pretty spectacular arse and hips.

My feet are still killing me, and every stop we take instantly turns my legs to stone, making the first minutes of walking after a break complete torture. I will probably not make it to High Hrothgar. I wonder if there's a tavern in that Ivarstead place? I found some of those burial trinkets in my pocket. Also I could always sell my sword when Lydia stops watching over me for a second.

…

Why is Gorc lagging behind?

…

Stopped for the night. Lydia proceeded to beat the living shit out of me with a stick that was supposed to be a sword. She called it training. I asked her to train with a real sword. She said she wouldn't let me get off that easy. I might just slit my own throat if I weren't too tired to move any of my limbs.  
**  
5.9.201**

Walking walking walking walking. Boring boring boring boring. At least Gorc has stopped being intolerably cheerful. I don't think he's tired, though. I'm pretty sure there are giants in Skyrim that are weaker and smaller than him.

…

Nothing worth mentioning has happened during the entire day. Except for running Into a destroyed Khajiit trader caravan. I immediately went through their things for alcohol, but everything had been taken. None of them looked familiar either, so no chances of getting to desecrate ex-sailor's corpse. What is he doing in Skyrim anyway?

We stopped for the night. Lydia says we should be able to reach Ivarstead tomorrow if we keep up this pace. We set our camp far away from the road. Lydia told us not to light a fire because the bandits were likely nearby. Also, guard duty. Great. At least she didn't want to beat me to death with a stick tonight

…

How are we supposed to sleep in this cold night? Lydia's sleeping like a baby and looks fairly happy too. Nords. Gorc is shivering. And whimpering. I think he's afraid of the forest. I don't think it helped when I told the stories I'd heard of ice wraiths and ghostly wispmothers.

Went out to take a leak and walk around a bit to fight the cold. Gorc squeaked something, but I told him to wake Lydia if he found the campsite haunted.

Heard screams and saw weird lights from between the trees. Creeped closer and found two mages throwing some sort of icy spikes at each other. In the middle of the night? In the middle of this place? Both were squatting behind a large rock and taking turns smashing a spike to eachothers' rock. It was actually pretty entertaining, since the ice spikes were glowing and looked kind of nice in the dark. The match looked pretty even until they both got lucky at the same time. Sort of. They manage to launch a spell at the exact same time and hit their target while getting impaled by the enemy's spike immediately afterwards.

Waited a bit to make sure no one else was around. After hearing nothing for 10 minutes or so I creeped closer and went through their things. Both had some sort of glowing trinkets on, which would sell for a nice bit of money in the right places. They'd probably enchanted them. They also had potions on them. I might share the one which had "resist frost" written on its side with Gorc. Keeping the unnamed yellow ones. As well as the glowing mushroom the other had in his alchemy pouch. I don't think I believed even myself when I thought I got it because the glow would help me find my way back. It did, though. I also managed to send Gorc running away while screaming when he saw the glow approaching between the trees. I guess I shouldn't have told him about the wispmothers.  
**  
6.9.201**

Started my day with a yellow potion, while Lydia and the nervous wreck of Gorc weren't looking. It tasted surprisingly good, so I thought I'd use it to wash down some of that mushroom. It worked… kind of.

…

Woah.

**7.9.201**

We are apparently now camped somewhere near Ivarstead. Lydia had thought it would've been for the best if we didn't go in while I only agreed to move on all fours. I had tried to run off after rabbits and other cute critters of the forest all the time, but as moving on all fours didn't seem very natural to me I planted my face on the ground immediately pretty much every time I tried to move quickly. My whole face is bruised and my ass is freezing. I had lost my trousers somewhere in the darkness last night and I had to go look for them. I do have a pair of long underpants Lydia calls long johanssons for whatever bloody reason, but them alone weren't warm enough up here.

…

Ran into a Nord and a horsed Argonian in heavy armour down the road when looking for my pants. The Nord told me to make road as him and the dragonborn were on an important quest to High Hrothgar. I asked the Nord what made him think his companion was a dragonborn. He looked at me like I was an idiot and pointed out that his companion had a tail, horns and scales much like dragons did. I said his companion was closer to a fish than a dragon, which made the Nord pull out an axe and chase me into the forest. He didn't chase me very far but I figure it would prove problematic that we were going the same way and he promised to cut off my tongue before my head if he ever saw me again.

…

Returned to the camp. Upon seeing me searching through my bags for the trousers one more time just in case, Lydia lost her appetite and poured the rest of her porridge on the ground, and told me to close the assflap of my long johanssons. I almost protested that one woman had said I had a great ass but then I remembered it was Hainab's dockside whore. Who could barely speak at that point, being so drunk. Then I remembered the huge, golden birthmark on my right cheek. Grams liked to talk about how Dunmer used to have golden skin like the Altmer until Azura cursed us. I got to thinking that maybe I really was the direct descendant of the Nerevarine, who according to Grams had golden skin. He was also half as tall as the Red Mountain according to grams and pleased a million virgins a night all by himself. I think she may have gotten a bit distracted. I also should probably avoid using the gold patch on my arse as a proof of my holy blood

**8.9.201**

Shared a room with Lydia, apparently. The bed was big enough for both of us with not too much of awkwardness, but I guess I had missed my target again when I crashed last night, as I woke on the floor. Today's plan: kill hangover with drink. Get a new hangover for tomorrow.

Well, yesterday it turned out that "near Ivarstead" had been somewhat different in Lydia's mind than mine, as it took hours and hours to get here. At least Gorc had found my trousers hanging from a lower branch of a pine. Tried to complain but Lydia told that if I had not been crawling slowly on all fours and trying to get rid of my clothes all the time we would've reached Ivarstead ages ago. Once we saw it in the distance I declared with my power as a Dragonborn and a Thane of whatever that we wouldn't move anywhere at least for a day. Neither seemed to have anything against that, and Lydia seemed very determined to get a drink. On our way here she made the worst of Altmer supremacists seem as hard and unforgiving as Breton librarian, but she's got her moments.

Once we had reached the town I saw four men carrying the Nord who had accompanied the Argonian. He'd been pretty easy to hear from further away, though. I guess people weren't buying into his dragonborn logic. He was accusing everybody of all sorts of blasphemies and promised to punish everyone, as they weren't worth the trouble of the mighty dragonborn. He saw me and declared I hadn't been forgotten either.

We walked straight into the inn. I guess the locals were a bit touchy about the whole dragonborn business because about a dozen of them had cornered the Argonian and looked just about ready to lynch him. I ignored all that and walked to the owner who was luckily more interested in business than religious problems. I put the shiny amulets of the lunatic mages on the desk. I guess they were worth more than I had thought because the owner slammed three pints of ale on the desk and said food would be up shortly, but they only had rooms for two, so some of us would have to share.

I didn't get to think which terrified me more: sharing a bed with Gorc or Lydia, because right after that I heard Gorc roaring with a near ground shaking voice that he wasn't an Orc. I guess he had to stick his weird Orc nose into that angry mob thing, because when I turned I saw him holding some guy over his head like he was a pile of hay and tossing him into the mob, knocking down just about everyone. I guess that was a good enough performance to make them have second thoughts about lynching that Argonian, because the mob scurried off pretty much right after they got back up. The innkeeper didn't raise an eyebrow to any of that. I might have to steal those amulets back and sell them for money. Must be worth thousands and thousands.

The Argonian stuck with us because Gorc's lunacy had rescued him. He said his name was Chases-Paper. He'd been poking around some place called Riften when the beard guys started shouting that dovahkiin(not dough fucking, apparently) thing with their thunderous voices. Pretty soon afterwards a local lunatic had spotted him and started spewing all sorts of gibberish about dragonborns and greybeards' calling. He had seemed pretty unstable, so Chases-Paper had followed him all the way here because he was afraid of the lunatic's reaction if he refused, and he was sort of in trouble in Riften already anyway. The lunatic even gave him that set of steel armour, saying it was his dad's or something. I said I'd met plenty of Argonians, but none with a name that stupid.

Rest of the yesterday: Drinking, eating, drinking, eating. Lydia didn't try to keep up with me so she didn't destroy her taste for any particular drink this time. She did get pretty drunk and wanted to arm-wrestle with everyone. Nobody took the challenge. She would've crushed everyone, except Gorc who would've probably accidentally torn her arm off its socket. He looked lost in his thoughts and somewhat sad and concerned, and wasn't interested in it. Guess he was embarrassed about his unladylike behavior.

…

Lydia's up for getting drunk tonight as well. I already am. I'm starting to like that woman. Chases-Paper is still here, for whatever reason. Don't mind. Gorc's sitting in his room and scribbling something. I guess he's got a journal as well. Other customers are slowly starting to creep in. They don't look like the angry mob material any more, though. Guess people scare easy around here.

…

Went out for a piss. Found the jail while I was there and had a blast driving Chases-Paper's former buddy completely senseless with rage from behind the window bars. Must've tripped on my own feet at least thrice on my way back to the inn.

**9.9.201**

Got scared awake by to the sound of a huge pile of plates falling and breaking on the floor in the main hall, followed by bottles falling on the floor and other stuff. Still drunk and confused. Opened the door and saw Chases-Paper running away hissing from the inn, with the innkeeper running after him with a cleaver in his hand, shouting all sorts of curses. I guess he was stealing. Might've considered other business with that tail swinging about, myself. I would've at least taken the armour off. Idiot. Going back to bed.

Wait, why is Lydia naked?

...

My head is pounding. I can't hold food inside. My hands are shaking. How did I let myself get into this situation? Killing this hangover is going to require determination.

…

No recollection.


	5. Week 5

So yeah. I edited the earlier entries to form whole weeks. All this week 3.1 and week 3.2 gets confusing. Also because there was an 8 day week. Not good. I deleted and rewrote one day's entry, but nothing really happened in it so nobody's butt should get hurt.

-Nahkuri

* * *

**10.9.201**

Woke up in a sled, swaddled like a baby. We were going up a path on the side of a mountain and had just taken a sharp turn, so the first thing I saw was a forest spreading out hundreds of meters below us. Started screaming and tried to get out, but I was strapped to the sled. Lydia stuffed some rag in my mouth to shut me up. Don't know how long the rest of that bit of the climb lasted. Spent the whole time fighting against vomiting and choking to death. I really wish she would've used something else than my used up footwraps to gag me.

We stopped to make camp in a cave. Lydia ungagged me and released me. I immediately went through my bag to search for something to wash away the taste of my gag, but all the potions were gone. Lydia interrupted my desperate wail by tossing me a flagon. I downed half of it and threw up immediately afterwards. It was water.

While I was coughing and spitting the rest of my barf Lydia told me about yesterday. She had left me suffering a severe hangover and scouted the path to the Greybeards a bit. When she returned hours later she found the innkeep outside along with some angry looking local bloke. The innkeep told her to head inside. She did, and found me covered from head to toe in red stains, waving a chair over my head, shouting some gibberish about studying colour and my work being unfinished. The demons I fought consisted of thin air and Gorc who was watching the spectacle from the other side of the hall. He told her that I'd locked into my room for a long time. At some point he noticed the door was open and I was gone, and there were empty bottles on the floor. I'd returned later with a bucket of some sort of red powder and a determined look on my face. I had upended the bucket on the floor of the inn and started crawling in the powder. I'd drawn circles, stick figures and random letters in it with my fingers. I had been frowning and mumbling incoherently the whole time and sprea the stuf everywhere. The innkeep had demanded me to stop and the local Lydia saw outside had appeared and started shouting at me. Apparently I'd stolen the red ochre he had bought and intended to use to make paint for his house. I'd responded by grabbing a chair and driving everyone out except Gorc.

Lydia and Gorc had disarmed and bound me, but the innkeep had tossed us out and they had to pay the local. Fortunately Gorc had secured and held onto a few of those trinkets I'd stolen from the catacombs weeks ago. They also bought the sled and strapped me to it, and begun the trip to take me to the Greybeards.

**11.9.201**

Why in Oblivion would any halfwit live somewhere that was this hard to get to? How do these beard men get their food? How do they get their drink? How long do I have to be there? This climb is killing me. I've half a mind to just jump down and end it all.

...

Made a camp in some big crevice. The climb had me covered in sweat and now that we're stopped my balls are about to freeze off. Asked Lydia why she'd been naked the other night. Gorc reacted with a wide eyed stare. What's up with him now? Lydia stared at the fire with a blank face and then denied all possibility of that and told me to never speak of such a thing again. I asked if I'd been too drunk to get it up and she promised to toss me down the mountain if I didn't shut up.

**12.9.201.**

We got ambushed by a troll. This thing was white and twice the size of the ugly buggers in Cyrodiil. Lydia and Gorc spent a good while fighting the thing. I buried myself in the snow to hide while they were at it. Falling asleep there wasn't the brightest of ideas.

**13.9.201**

Woke up on a warm bed in a stone building, surrounded by Gorc and Lydia and the greybeards as it turned out. Their beards were dyed with bright colours, though, and stylized into various shapes that propably took ages to form. Lydia told me I was a useless fucking idiot. One of the old men chuckled. It made the ground rumble. He introduced himself as Arngeir and he had a forked beard the colour of lovely violet and the longest eyelashes I'd ever seen. He said he hadn't been expecting a Dunmer to appear, but it wasn't unheard of for the gods to give the blood and soul of the dragon to races other than men. The girly way he overpronounced the letter 'S' was infuriating and I told him that. He whacked me right in the balls with a stick. It hurt like fuck and made me let out that shout thing again. Lydia and Gorc fell on their arses but the "grey"beards didn't flinch. It did mess up their beards and hair but they didn't seem to mind. Arngeir made about knowing that method would work.

...

Ate some salted fish and stuff. They had some wine too, thank the eight or nine or whatever. Apparently there is plenty of the stuff in there. Asked Arngeir how they get it, as the path here was unsuitable for any cart. He told me they had an arrangement with the folks of Ivarstead and a special way to get their supplies. He wouldn't tell more. I wouldn't have cared, but I wasn't to have free access to their barrells until I was deemed ready to know their big logistic secret. I hate this place already.

...

These beard guys are the weirdest bunch of men I have ever seen. When they aren't styling their beards or polishing their nails they make stupid inside jokes all the time and giggle like girls. Except girls giggling doesn't make the ground rumble. I try to stay away from them. Why are they so loud all the time? Arngeirn can talk like a normal person, apart from his stupid way to pronounce 's', but the others make the whole place shake when they say anything and leave my ears ringing. Lydia and Gorc look somewhat overwhelmed by all this and mostly stay in the room we were given.

...

Arngeirn gave me a lesson on some basic stuff about shouting. According to him most everything dragons do are these shouts. They shout when they breathe fire, for example. Apparently dragons fighting could be considered a debate. I said a debate is usually a little bit more than two guys shouting nonsensical three word phrases at eachother. He looked a bit awkward and nodded in agreement.

...

Walked into Borri, one of the rainbow beards, shaving his balls. I don't think these guys are used to visitors.

**14.9.201**

Woke up during the night to screams of terror and the sound of shattering pottery in the hallways. It turned quiet after that. I farted and turned to my other side and intended to continue sleeping, but Lydia kicked me off my bed and told me to grab my sword and follow her. I did and considered sticking the thing between her ribs. We found Arngeir standing next to Gorc who was curled up on the floor and weeping. He was grayer than I'd ever seen him. He wailed something about the place being haunted. Arngeir said there hadn't been any ghosts around before, so he probably was sleep walking and saw a bad dream. Arngeir's eyelashes weren't as long as they were yesterday. Did he cut them?

We got Gorc up and back to bed. He kept whimpering in bed so me and Lydia had to take turns shouting at him to shut up. Goddamn Orc. Or Altmer. Whatever in Oblivon he is. Or she.

...

Arngeir taught me the blastwave shout. Apparently I needed to shout "Fus Ro Dah" in a certain way. I trained outside and managed to pull it off one fifth of the time. He said that was about two hundred times better than anyone with my experience could do, which was a sign I probably was the real deal dragonborn. I asked him to teach me how to breathe fire. He told me the words, but I couldn't do it. He told me I'd probably need to consume another dragon's soul to get the power and shortcut to learning how to do it. Great.

I noticed his eyelashes were ridiculously long again. He must have some fake ones around he puts on every morning.

...

I don't get it. It's a clear day and the sky is blue. However, the top of the mountain is constantly swallowed by a blizzard. I can see its edges. It's like a constant white cloud around it, and there's a pathway leading there.

Arngeir told me their leader was there and I could go there once I knew the way of the voice. What?

...

Was on my way to get something to eat and Borri ran past me. He was being chased by another beardguy, Einarth, and let out an excited squeal that threw me on my back and made a vase explode. Arngeir told me they were playing a game they came up with to pass the time. It's called "steal the pantaloons."

I want out of here.

**15.9.201**

Gorc woke me in the middle of the night. He wanted me to escort him when he went to take a piss. The old woman might appear again to haunt him. I asked if he had irritating ancestors too, but apparently that was the first time anything of the sort had ever happened. I had a growing suspicion of what was going on, so I followed him.

No ghosts, but while I was waiting for him to do his business I heard some noises. It was quiet and distant, but it sounded a lot like a pair of balls slapping against someone's arse. It wasn't me, it wasn't Gorc and it certainly wasn't Lydia. Her snoring could probably be heard in Whiterun.

I guess life gets lonely up here.

...

After a day of Arngeirn talking a lot of nonsense about ancient nords being persecuted by dragons and shouting at eachother and apparently doing a failed invasion to Morrowind, I was in our room, listening to Lydia ranting about the greybeards being intolerable faggots. I guess Nordic folklore had her expecting something a bit more grand than the fabulous bunch of old men the greybeards turned out to be. Gorc took offence and started berating her for being a close minded homophobe, She got defensive and they started a meaningless fight. In the middle of their argument, Arngeir appeared and told me to follow him to the meeting of the greybeards.

All the greybeards were gathered in some kind of a meeting hall with a big stone table. They told me I needed to do a certain task to affirm I was truly a dragonborn. I needed to locate and blow the horn of Jurgen Windcaller. Then they all started giggling like idiots. I had to cover my ears and wait for them to stop. I thought they were making some stupid and gay inside joke of theirs again, but apparently I really needed to go get some artifact of theirs. After gathering his wits Arngeir gave me directions to some ancient tomb and all, and added I didn't really need to blow it. I just needed to bring it back. After that I would be ready to go up to the peak and meet their boss.

I told them I'd do it. Whatever to get away from here. No way I'll be coming back to this frozen piece of shit monastery, though.

**16.9.201  
**

Started our trip down. After a few hours of walking Gorc decided to use the sled to slide down a slope where there was no danger of falling down an edge or anything. He was as excited as a little kid until he smashed into a rock and launched himself off the sled, landing head first into a pile of snow that left only the lower half of him visible and his legs kicking uselessly in the air. That would've been really funny if it didn't completely destroy our sled and mean that we had to carry all our stuff again. Fucking idiot.


	6. Week 6

**17.9.201**

We lost Gorc. I woke up in the middle of the night to him screaming his lungs out in terror again. Lydia and I rushed out of our tents and I hoped to catch the spirit scaring him shitless at night, but we saw nothing. We could hear Gorc alright, though. He was schreeching like a little girl and apparently running very fast while he was doing it, as the sound was getting more and more distant. Lydia said that we should go after him, but neither of us moved. I said we'd catch him tomorrow. I like him enough to hope he doesn't run off a cliff or something, but not enough to go searching for him on a mountainside in the middle of a night in a bloody blizzard. Oh well, at least I have our tent completely for myself. After asking Lydia about her lack of clothes the other night I'd been sharing a tent with Gorc.

Hold on, I'm the fucking dragonborn and Lydia is my Housecarl! Gorc's just hanging around for whatever bloody reason. I should have my own tent and those two freaks should have shared theirs. Why didn't I think of it before Gorc disappeared?

Wait, does this mean I'm going to have to carry MORE stuff?

...

It did. Useless orc. I ended up having an unfortunate accident with his bag. Hopefully he's made his way down the mountain and it landed on his transgendered head. I'm keeping his journal, though. He certainly likes flowers, judging from how he fills the sides of most every damn page with drawings of them.

...

Walking down's less of a pain than going up, but it's snowing all the bloody time now. The fresh snow is soft and powderlike and it hides the ice while making it more slippery. I slipped on some of it and slid on my arse down a small slope. I thought I was going to go over the edge and screamed in terror, but I just smashed right into a tree. My tailbone's killing me now. Lydia nearly pissing herself with laughter didn't make things any easier either. Once I'm down this mountain I'm going back to Cyrodiil. Or maybe to the hottest desert of Hammerfell. I'll make my way in the middle of the most impregnable fucking swamp of Blackmarsh just to get away from this snow. I'm just going to sell my Whiterun house and be off.

**18.9.201**

I wonder how Hainab's doing now that he's been alone for a month in the IC. If he's carried on with our moonshine project he's probably made piss poor distillment and is blind by now.

I can't believe I've spent over a month in this shithole province.

...

Lydia asked what I'm reading during our breaks. I told her the Gaybeards gave me a history of the dragonborn and I'm trying to find stuff about the Nerevarine. Either she bought it or didn't really care.

I like how Gorc's writing style alters between an emotionally delicate creature he thinks he is, and a mountain of muscle, testosterone and barely contained rage. There's entries is full of overanalyzing meaningless social situations and undertones, longing after a perfect gentleman to hold him in his arms and love him forever as well fretting about his big bone structure and frame. And then there's stuff how he was this close to tearing each of the free brothers apart with his bare hands for teasing him. And more than a single mention of sometimes wanting to pummel me to the ground.

There's also a ton of stuff about Lydia. He seems to admire her for being such a strong woman. Which is weird because Lydia's just about the manliest person I have ever seen. I think she has two pairs of steel gonads where her ovaries are supposed to be. Gorc's also really envious of her arse. He's made it very clear to himself by mentioning it on every other page.

...

Lydia wanted to kill a mountain goat for food and I agreed. Got tired of jerky ages ago. We found one soon enough, and Lydia was getting ready to shoot the thing with her bow when I blasted it off the mountain with a shout. I probably shouldn't try to help her with hunting anymore. She looked just about ready to murder me and I thought we would have a fistfight, but instead she told me she got some really strong spiced wine from the Gaybeards but wouldnt' share it with me. Tried to Fus Ro Dha her off the mountain as well but I couldn't do it again so soon.

No sight of Gorc today. Or goats. I volunteered to have first guard duty at night. Reached for her stuff in her tent under the edge after she started snoring, but it was a trap. She grabbed my hand and twisted my fingers until I was begging and promised on the bones of my ancestors that I wouldn't try it again.

...

I can't believe she fell for that. Idiot. I just had to wait for her to fall asleep for real. She wasn't lying about the wine being strong. I left her half a mouthful.

**19.9.201**

Lydia's so mad at me she won't talk. I'm fine with that. I dont' know what the fab-4 up there put in their wine, but my head feels like it will shatter to a hundred little pieces at any moment. We've almost made it down the mountain at least.

...

We made it to Ivarstead. Wanted to placate Lydia by buying her something to drink, but the innkeep threw us out the moment we walked in. The floor was still mostly red in the middle of the inn.

Asked around. Gorc had appeared in the town a day before us. He'd been gray and looked like he hadn't slept for days. He had asked for a priest as he was haunted by a ghost that appeared whenever he slept. There wasn't one in Ivarstead, so he had bought some supplies and left.

Sold my sword and got us a carriage to Whiterun. The Nord only wanted to travel on the main roads, but at least he's taking the southern route which would take us there quicker.

...

Read a bit of Gorc's journal. There was a very concerned entry of him questioning his sexuality as Margot, the straight Altmer woman. I wonder if it has a connection with the numerous mentions of Lydia being so great and her butt being so firm and well shaped. The thought's making me chuckle. Lydia did slobber a flirty comment about his muscles being so massive and sexy, back in Whtierun when she got drunk with me for the first time. I don't imagine him getting a whole lot of that type of attention outside any Orc community, so it could've gotten to him.

**20.9.201**

Lydia's really nervous about the path we're taking. The road goes through a gorge that seems like a perfect place for an ambush. It was pretty near Helgen, so I told her that Gorc and I were the only surviving members of the bandit group that operated in the area.

...

Of course logs and rocks started tumbling down behind and in front of the carriage while we were going through the gorge. I jumped off the carriage and tried to shout the path clear. I managed to do a very strong Fus Ro Dah at first try, but our idiot driver jumped down in front of me and all I managed to do was to send him flying. He hit the mountainside with a loud splat.

Bandits appeared from their hidey holes with bows and crossbows in arm. Looked like they were just going to kill us and loot our bodies, but someone shouted them to wait. Chases Paper appeared. He told the rest of them that I was the thane of Whiterun and lied that Lydia was related to the Jarl, and we could be ransomed. So they're taking us to their boss. I could kiss that lizard. If he weren't a lizard.

...

So Olofson's not dead. The bandits took us to the ruins of Helgen and there he was. He's lost one eye and his left forearm, though, and didn't seem all that happy to see me. He told me he'd killed off the last of the Draugr that had been chasing me but was badly wounded in the process and lost consciousness after that. He woke up later and crawled back in terrible pain, but the gate before the stairs leading down to the spider's lair had been closed. He saw me behind the gate. I'd been searching for something, utterly shitfaced and still naked from the waist down. He'd called for help but I'd just yelled at him to shut up and walked off, rambling something about how he and the rest of the mummies could keep my fucking pants.

He'd been certain he'd die there, but he was rescued by a group of some religious people called called the vigilants of something or another, who were hunting for Vampires. They had to cut off half of his left arm but had managed to save his life. So now he's formed another group of outlaws, called The New Free Brothers. I see his creativity hadn't improved. He did knock me unconscious with one swing when I started laughing at the name of his new group.

So now my head is pounding again and I'm locked in the same cellar where I got drunk for the first time in Skyrim. Lydia's here too, without her armour and sword. We also finally found Gorc, who's currently the shade of dirty snow and about as sharp as a hammer because of his sleep deprivation.

There's also the spider. It's the size of a pony and locked in a cage that takes up half the room of the cellar. Olofson visited us at some point and said it was the same babyspider he had put on my chest a month ago to wake me up, and tomorrow he'd use it to get a little payback for the loss of his arm and depth perception.

After he'd left I looked at the spider behind the bars and it straightened its front legs out and started doing some sort of side stepping dance while staring at me. It made my skin crawl like never before. My housecarl decided to encourage me by saying it almost looked like a mating ritual. Thanks, Lydia. Appreciate it.

Tried to shout my way out the door. It took ages and numerous tries, but I managed to do a Fus Ro Dah. It didn't knock out the door as I'd hoped. It did make the place shake. Dust and sand fell from the ceiling. Lydia told me to stop as I was more likely to make the place collapse on us than to escape.

...

Chases Paper showed up. He brought Gorc a potion and said it'd make him impervious against ghost attacks. Gorc downed it in one gulp and managed to say half of "thank you" before passing out.

Chases Paper then turned to us and said he'd persuaded Olofson to spare Lydia for ransom money. The bandit leader didn't know what to do with Gorc yet, but he had better be in his senses to make his case, which is why Chases Paper brought the sleeping potion. I was to be fed to the spider tomorrow no matter what. It was still doing its dance. I asked Chases Paper if the thing wanted to fuck its every dinner before eating it and he said it had never done that before and that it did look somewhat like the mating dance of the spiders in Black Marsh he had seen. I'm getting very concerned.

**21.9.201**

Lydia shook me awake during the night and pointed at the door. I saw a ghostly figure of an old woman appearing through the door and floating next to Gorc. She then started berating Gorc for being such a homo and started ranting how in her age men were men and women were women. I fucking knew it. It was my Grams who was haunting Gorc in his sleep. Some years ago she'd pestered Hainab night after night to quit drinking, to get a job and then see that I do the same, because I wasn't listening to her no matter what she cursed me with. Gorc was still knocked out by the potion so what was left of his sanity remained safe.

I interrupted Grams and asked why she was haunting my friends again. She said she had appeared one night in the mountain monastery to check if I had done anything with my life. Instead she'd found Gorc having an excited discussion about lace underwear and fake eyelashes with Arngeir. She observed in disgust how Gorc tried putting the lashes on, and confronted him in the hallways after he had said goodnight to Arngeir and started making his way to our room.

She then started nagging me, asking if it was debt problems or my big mouth that got me into trouble this time. I told her I was the dragonborn and that I now believed her drunken ramblings about us being Nerevarine's descendants. I lied that I was going to stop drinking and try to not put any more shame on my great great great grandfather's legendary name. She frowned and stared at me without saying anything for a long time while I tried to look as honest as I could. Then she floated to the spidercage and looked at me. She did some ghost trick on the lock which made it open, and vanished with a mieschievous cackle. The spider came straight at me with it's front legs pointing up like when it danced, and drove me to a corner where I proceeded to shit myself and scream in terror.

I wasn't eaten, though. The thing Just started doing the sidestepping dance while I was out of my mind with fear and screaming helplessly. The door flew open and the bandits appeared. I guess it was too soon for me to be eaten by a giant spider because they came into the cellar with spears in hand and tried to drive the spider back into his cage. Instead it jumped on one and bit him in the face. The rest turned and ran and the spider followed them. Lydia grabbed the downed bandit's spear and pulled me up. Then she smelled the shit in my pants and pushed me back down and ran up, locking the door behind her.

...

Heard fighting and screams outside, but it's been quiet for hours now. Gorc's still asleep. I guess the spider's poisonous because the bandit's shaking on the ground and foaming from his mouth. I stole his pants before he could die and shit himself. He's a Bosmer and pretty tiny so they are more like breeches than trousers to me. Really looking forward to the next blizzard. At least they don't have shit in them.

...

Bandit's dead. Dragged his corpse to the spidercage.

Gorc woke. I told him what had happened and what the deal with the spirit was. He asked if she was going to leave him alone now, and I told him I had no idea. It made him whimper. Told him grams was pretty much harmless and mostly just really annoying and hypocritical. At most she might curse him with some short lasting annoyance. Not sure if it helped.

The door opened and Lydia appeared, clad from head to toe in steel plate and with a huge, bloody sword in her hand. We went up and found a complete massacre outside the ruined tavern. I counted at least 6 dead and mutilated bodies. Lydia stretched and said she needed a good fight to let out all the frustration and anger my selfish stupidity had caused. I am now slightly terrified of my housecarl.

Olofson and Chases Paper were not among the dead, and there was no sight of the spider. Lydia told that after she'd done killing the ones on the ground the rest of the bandits had decided to pull their skirts over their heads and run away screaming . The spider had chased them. Hope it gets killed or forgets its zoophilic feelings towards me.

Lydia tossed my bag to me. Gorc asked for his stuff. I told him that I slipped during our descent from the mountain and the bag fell, along with all its contents. Lydia seemed to remember something. She went through her things and handed me Gorc's journal and said with a malicious smile that it certainly was a good thing that she found my important dragonborn book on Olofson's table. There was a silent moment where I held the book in my hand and Gorc stared at it. I could hear the gears turning in his head and if I hadn't emptied my bowels earlier I would've shat myself then. Suddenly he roared. I barely managed to dodge his haymaker and started running for my life. I managed to lose him, but kept on running until I started getting close to Riverwood. Hid in the forests around the town.

**22.9.201**

Too scared to come out of hiding.

**23.9.201**

Too scared to come out of hiding.


End file.
